


Tuesdays

by withlovegilbert (rebelarkey)



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Courtship, F/M, Feminist Themes, Season 3, Victorian Attitudes, Walking Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelarkey/pseuds/withlovegilbert
Summary: Set after 3x01Charlie asks to walk Anne home. Anne vehemently refuses. Gilbert intervenes.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 331





	Tuesdays

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE Thank-you to @aceofsparrows for her wonderful betaing skills! 
> 
> It's been several years since I've had the writing flow instead of struggling to pound out a fic due to obligation. My muse has awakened.

Tuesdays are the worst. 

Diana has her private piano sessions and Anne stays for the Queen’s study group, leaving the latter to walk home alone. Having her bosom friend with her for the rest of the four days of the week leaves Tuesdays as an unimaginative bore and extremely lonely. 

Or at least they were until Josie Pye resurrected the Take Notice board. Now Charlie Sloane keeps asking to walk Anne home, and Tuesdays are the one day she doesn’t have Diana as an excuse. 

It’s been three weeks of explanations of why Charlie can’t walk her home and Anne is running out of fibs. Maybe if she sprints for the door as soon as Miss Stacy dismisses them, Charlie won’t have a chance to catch her, corner her and ask that dreaded question in his weak voice with a warble at the end. That annoying warble of uncertainty;how unromantic. She wouldn’t be the bride of adventure with him. Charlie doesn’t know the first thing about romance; instead she would be the bride of boring. No thank you.

Benches scraping, books slamming close, excited chattering interrupt Anne’s thoughts. She missed Miss Stacy’s dismissal and has lost her chance for escape. 

Drat. 

Reluctantly, Anne stands and gathers her books. Maybe if she delays, Charlie will think he missed her and go looking for her while she’s still in the schoolhouse. Probably not likely...

Or maybe she can talk to Miss Stacy again. However, a glance of the schoolroom reveals that her beloved teacher has slipped into her study, the door shut firmly behind her, a clear sign for Miss Stacy’s need for privacy. 

Hope dead, Anne drags her feet into the coat room, not seeing Charlie. As she winds her scarf around her neck, she hears the door open and her heart drops in dread. 

She feels someone stand behind her. Anne closes her eyes, bracing herself. Can’t the boy take a hint? Must she tell him directly and honestly that she will  _ never  _ walk home with him? 

“Anne…” He clears his throat. “It seems we’re the only two left. As it’s a dangerous place out there, I would be willing to escort you home.”

A  _ dangerous place?  _ Does he  _ hear _ himself? Anne walks home every day and the only time she felt scared was in the Haunted Woods when she was confronted by Billy Andrews that very first morning.  _ Nothing  _ has happened since! She turns around, her patience shredded. 

“Charlie Sloane, I’ve walked home many times before without incident and I don’t see a reason why that would suddenly change.”

“I..”

“And furthermore, it will be a cold day in hell before I would let you---”

A new voice cut across Anne’s diatribe.“I’m so sorry Anne, Miss Stacy had more to discuss than I was expecting. Thank you for waiting. ” 

They both glance over at Gilbert with surprise, a half smirk on his handsome face. 

He continues nonchalantly, ignoring Charlie’s confusion and Anne’s ire. “We agreed that I’d walk you home after study group. Or did you forget again?”

Anne recovers quickly, grateful for Gilbert’s intrusion, however baffling his rescue seems. Anything to escape this horrible conversation. She smiles. “I did, I’ll admit. Goodbye, Charlie.” 

Gilbert holds the door for her as she descends the steps, reminiscent of that first day, the first time she’d met her competition, the first time he rescued her, and she still doesn’t like it one bit.

She turns to face him, anger hot once more in her face, when Gilbert shakes his head, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Not here,” he mutters. “Wait until we’re far enough away.”

Anne seethes but reluctantly allows herself to be propelled by Gilbert’s steady pace. When she deems them far enough away from the schoolhouse to not be heard, however, Anne whirls on him. 

“How dare you! I had it perfectly handled! I didn’t need you to come along and save me, thank you very much!” She pushes away from Gilbert, storming down the path ahead of him. 

Unfortunately, his long legs mean he can catch up to her quickly. 

“Anne! Be reasonable, please. You can’t just reject Charlie Sloane like that. I’ve watched you dodge his advances the past few weeks--not very subtly I might add-- but it's not just me that’s noticed. If someone chooses to spread around you've soundly and totally rejected Charlie Sloane, the whole of Avonlea will know.”

“I don’t care what the ‘whole of Avonlea’ will know! I don’t want to walk home with Charlie or anybody!”

Gilbert grasps her arm, stopping her fervent pace and turning her to face him. “Avonlea gossip is cutthroat and nasty as you and I both know very well. The Sloanes won’t take it lightly if you utterly and resoundingly reject Charlie...Especially when some of our neighbors don’t think very highly of you as it is.”

Anne shrugs off his grip, laughing harshly. “What, because I’m trash?”

Gilbert frowns, looking offended. “No!” 

Unfortunately, this only fuels Anne’s fire. “Is it because I’m an ugly orphan and I should be grateful for the fact that Charlie is even interested in me?” She scoffs again.“You sound like Josie Pye! She seems to think that I will end up an old maid! Well, it’s better that. I will be the Bride of Adventure before I will ever marry that sniveling, condescending, holier-than-thou boy!” 

Anne, filled with anger at the audacity of the gossips of Avonlea and the meddling of one Gilbert Blythe, storms up the path, wrapped in her ire, as comforting to her as an old cloak. Small minded people who have nothing else to do but ridicule others, how ridiculous. She is tired of being thought less of, of being discounted, of being underestimated, all because of her looks, her age, her upbringing, and her gender. 

After a few minutes of tense silence, her harsh breathing coating the air, the cloak of fury melts away, leaving her colder. She stops then, wrapping her arms around herself. She hears Gilbert stop behind her. 

Anne speaks to the trees instead, addressing the silent sentinels to her pain as they’ve been for years. She’s trusted them to keep her secrets. And now…

“For most of my life I’ve had to fight the idea that I’m… nothing more than someone to throw away or pass around as needed. Or that I’m not capable of being real help because I’m a girl. But I’ve come to understand that even though I’m loved now, when I wasn’t loved, I was-- _ am  _ still worthy of it. And Charlie thinking it a favor that he’d even be interested in me… it isn’t flattering at all.”

Gilbert comes to stand in front of her, face to face and eye to eye. Anne realizes in that moment how vulnerable she is being with a boy who has more power to hurt her than any Charlie Sloanes of the world could ever have.

Anne raised her chin. “Women matter all on their own, Gilbert,  _ not  _ in relation to a man. I don’t need an escort, from you or anyone else. I do just fine on my own.”

“I’ve taken notice of that.” Gilbert says quietly, his face shuttering, open expression disappearing. He huffs in annoyance, turning and striding away from her, in the opposite direction of Green Gables. “I’ll leave you to it. See you.”

Too late, she realizes she’s hurt him _.  _ Just like that day of his father’s funeral, she seems to constantly put her foot in it. 

“Gil--Gilbert, wait! That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

He keeps walking, not turning to face her as he speaks. “It’s not? You didn’t mean your entire speech?” He sighs. “You’re too stubborn, Anne. One of these days you’re going to need people and if you keep throwing them away or keeping them at a distance, they won’t be there when you need them.”

Anne rushed to stop in front of him, forcing him to stop as well. “You’re right. I am stubborn and hot-tempered and independent. I don’t entirely understand this whole courting routine, and why on God’s green earth the Take Notice board is so fascinating to our peers. It’s a whole bit of tomfoolery and nonsense if you ask me.” She throws up her hands, sighing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. “But, I feel lesser like a person when society says that I must have an escort or a chaperone or a husband as if I couldn’t do anything for myself. Why must I always have someone to take care of me? I’m not a child! I survived by myself for 13 years before I ever came to Avonlea and suddenly I’m incapable of looking out for myself? I…” An unexpected sob chokes the rest of her sentence and Anne shakes her head, looking down at the muddy toes of her boots. 

A warm hand touches her bicep accompanied by a soft voice. “Anne… Anne, listen to me. You’re not lesser as a person. You’re zealous, and brave, and capable, and have a wider scope of imagination than all of Avonlea combined. You’ve been through so much in your life that no one gives you credit for and you’ve come out stronger. But I was raised as somewhat of a gentleman, and I’m a servant to my upbringing.” 

Gilbert steps closer, trailing his hand down to hers, bringing it up between them. His thumb rubs a strangely soothing pattern against her knuckles, and she looks up at him as he looks from her hand to her eyes. “I know you don’t  _ need  _ me to walk you home. But, I suppose, a fellow would hope that a lady would  _ want  _ him to…” He trails off, blushing just slightly, the moment holding its breath between them. 

Anne feels time slow, their breaths mingling, hearts beating at the same pace. He doesn’t move, waiting, waiting for her to choose. And maybe someday she’ll be brave enough. 

She shudders, turning away, but kept her hand reluctantly encased in his, deciding. Like a lamb, he follows her lead. After a couple of steps, she turns to him casually, a small, mischievous smile on her lips. 

“Walk me home next Tuesday?” 

An answering grin meets her inquiry accompanied by a hand squeeze. 

Maybe Tuesdays aren't so bad after all. 


End file.
